Just a Little Tookishness
by Celebrindal
Summary: Bilbo was alive when the white wolves crossed the Brandywine. This is his account of the story, when he and his cousin Flambard Took found that he had "just a litte Tokkishness" in him as a child. No Slash.


Just a Little Tookishness By: Celebrindal and Daisy G.  
  
"No living hobbit (save Bilbo) could remember the fell winter of 1311, when white wolves invaded the Shire over the frozen Brandywine." The Fellowship of the Ring, page 281  
  
"Bilbo?" Frodo Baggins warily approached the older Baggins, who looked up from the pages of a book he was reading. "Yes, lad?"  
  
Frodo sat down in a large armchair across from the one his uncle was sitting in, tucking a leg under him as he did. The warm fire before them cracked and popped unexpectedly, making both hobbits jump slightly. "Well," Frodo said, searching for words with which he could ask the question he wished to ask. "Well, Bilbo.. I hope you do not take this the wrong way, but.."  
  
"Come on, lad, out with it!"  
  
Frodo's eyes darted about nervously. "Well," he groped for words to pose his question, but everything he thought of got caught in his throat. "Well, Bilbo.." Words lost to him again, the young Baggins decided to spit it out. "Bilbo, do people really think that you and I.. That you and I are odd?"  
  
Bilbo looked at Frodo with disbelief for a moment, then, to Frodo's great confusion, he threw back his head and broke into a fit of chuckles. "Bilbo, what is so funny? Does my ignorance really amuse you that much?"  
  
The one hundred and one year old hobbit cast a mirthful grey eye on Frodo, guffaws still erupting from the pit of his stomach. "Why of course they do!" He choked out through his laughter. "Didn't the Sackville-Baggins tell you what they thought about us the moment they saw you last Yule?" He paused, then added, "Unkind people, they are."  
  
"But Bilbo, why do they think we're strange?" Misunderstanding edged the tweenager's voice, and confusion clouded his blue eyes. "I don't understand."  
  
Bilbo shrugged. "I don't either. But I suppose it could be for one obvious reason. We're different, Frodo, and some people think that gives them the right to call us strange and peculiar."  
  
Frodo registered this, blinking thoughtfully. "But how are we different?"  
  
Bilbo's face cracked into a smile. "Well, you're from Buckland, Frodo, and 'round these parts of the Shire, that is as strange as you can get. Unless perhaps you go on adventures like 'Mad Baggins.' Then you may become even stranger. And believe me, Frodo. I've had my fill of adventures."  
  
"With Dwarves and Dragons?"  
  
Bilbo grinned warmly. "And that wasn't my first. Nah, the first one was hushed up by my father, who was a respectable old hobbit to the end of his day. Said what I did wasn't me but a Took cousin who looked unnaturally like me. Of course, after that I became a good little Baggins, never going on adventures 'til I was full grown. Nope, the first one happened nigh on ninety one years ago."  
  
Frodo leaned forward, interest scribbled all over his face. "Go on."  
  
Bilbo set down his book, leaned back in his own soft chair, and squinted his eyes, trying to remember what had happened all those years ago." Well," he started, "I had to be about ten years old when it happened.."  
  
* * *  
  
"Why Bilbo, reading again, are you?" Ten year old Bilbo Baggins Jumped at the sound of his name, and spun around to find only his cousin, Flambard Took. "Honestly, the way you read those books, people won't believe you're a Baggins, but a Took!" He plucked an apple form the tree above him and took a bite out of the ripe fruit. "I daresay you look enough like one."  
  
Bilbo heaved a heavy sigh of relief and settled back into the bark of the tree he was sitting next to. It was true; Bilbo looked more like a Took than any Baggins should. He had the same fair hair as the Tooks, and the same bright eyes. But Bilbo and Flambard shared an uncanny resemblance. They both bore the same light brown hair and the same mirthful grey eyes. Indeed, they looked so much alike that they could be twins if not for the three years separating them. But at family get-togethers, Bilbo was often called Flambard, and Flambard was called Bilbo.  
  
"Flambard, you know I like to be left alone when I read," Bilbo scolded him, scrambling up to his feet, clutching the blue covered book in his brown hands. "Any way, this one is my especial favorite."  
  
Flambard eyed him seriously. "And I'm sure it is." He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Anyway, your mum's called you for dinner."  
  
No sooner had Flambard mentioned the meal than Bilbo was off and running, sprinting through the trees, jacket flying behind him. As Flambard began walking behind, eager for the meal himself, he shrugged. "True, he likes his meals, but most hobbits like those, not just Baggins. But Bilbo now, Bilbo has definitely got some Tookishness in him, and that's a fact." Flambard took another bight out of his apple. A great gust of wind blew through the trees, cold and sharp, making him huddle deeper into his jacket. "Winter's a coming," he said to the sky as he turned his face upwards. "And it feels like it's going to be a cold one."  
  
Flambard shrugged off this information, though, and began crunching through the leaves again. And behind him, barely seen against the blazing colors of a Shire autumn, a snowflake fell, followed by many others, beginning a world of trouble for Flambard and Bilbo, as well as all the other hobbits in the Shire.  
  
A/N: When this takes place, Bilbo is visiting his mother's family in Buckland. 


End file.
